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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334328">Three Christmases</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Lady_Lune/pseuds/My_Lady_Lune'>My_Lady_Lune</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, I meant to write something substantial but nope, M/M, short and sweet holiday fic, this is what you get</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:41:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Lady_Lune/pseuds/My_Lady_Lune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three Christmases with Richard and Thomas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Three Christmases</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Year One</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until very recently, Christmas parties were something of a myth to Thomas. He knew people had them, but he’d never really been to one outside of childhood, and everything he knew about them came from memories of failed family gatherings and the hellish christmas films that played on TV day in and out. For years he denounced them, scoffed at everything that made the season so special to other people. It was all shit of course, though he would be the last person to admit out loud that he only wanted to be included. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d all figured it out of course, that he was sad and lonely and desperate for someone to care about him, at all, in any way. He’d home through Hell before that was made clear, but now it was, and Thomas couldn’t say he was sorry for how things turned out, overlooking what it took to get there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This would be the second Christmas party at the Crawley’s. It wasn’t actually on Christmas, everyone spent the day itself with immediate family and the like, but Thomas didn’t have anything like that, so the party was the best he’d get. It was fun, too. Exactly like the films made it look like. Maybe it was the fact that the Crawley’s were loaded, and so their house looked like something out of the high side of a Dickens novel; perhaps it was the fact that people smiled when they saw him at the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time he came--last year, the first Christmas after everything--had been a wonder. Thomas only hopes the second year would be as lovely as the first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How was he to know how this year’s party would shape his life?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was enjoying whisky and conversation with Tom and Andy when a latecomer arrived at the house, a friend of Matthew’s back from traveling abroad. Thomas took one look at the man’s smile and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. The stranger took Thomas’s hand in his for a firm shake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Richard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Year Two </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas had never owned Christmas decorations in his life. Richard, once he’d finally lived on his own without family or flatmates, had splurged on a couple strings of lights and a wreath, so at least they had some place to start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made Thomas giddy, buying decorations for their new flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving in together in the fall had meant at lot of firsts, though this one was one of Thomas’s favorites so far. They’d found a tree thin enough to fit in their modest living room, but nice enough to call lovely when it was up and decorated. It was nearly there, too, with Thomas and Richard hanging the last of the ornaments. Most of them were nothing special, glass ball ornaments and the like, as their lives together had only just begun. But there were a few that held meaning; the Ellis family Christmas ornament, a small glass disk with a vintage photo of Paris printed on the front, and on the back, the year and the family name, bold and proud. They’d invited Thomas on that family trip with them. He’d not been able to stay for the whole trip, and it was more than a little daunting to meet much of the family while everyone was on holiday and spending time doing things together. But it had been wonderful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last ornament was a surprise for Thomas; a delicate, beautiful stained glass crescent moon, which caught the light and shone white and lavender and indigo. Richard winked at Thomas as he hung it on their tree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did that come from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought we needed something to mark our first Christmas together,” said Richard. “My family always did it, adding an ornament every year, as something to remember that year by.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thomas reached out and gently ran his fingers over the colored glass. “Yeah? And what will you remember from this year, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard kissed him, with depth and familiarity and conviction, and Thomas melted against him. He had a brief vision of a Christmas tree laden with countless ornaments and memories and love, and smiled against his lover’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Year Three</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d had the laptop set up for near an hour, and Thomas busied himself with making everything look perfect while Richard focused on finishing up preparing their little feast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling,” Richard called from the kitchen, “I think you can stop fussing now. The place looks lovely, you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want people to think we’re slipping, no matter how long it’s been since they’ve been over.” Thomas finished lighting the candles and setting the table for two; they’d sit at the corner of the table so they could face each other and the laptop screen. Thomas had made sure it was the corner that showed off their tree and the fire in the hearth. This was the quietest Christmas Thomas had had in half a decade, and sometimes, he felt it all too keenly. But right now, watching Richard carve the roast and pull the Yorkshire pudding out of the oven, Thomas only felt happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed his fingers over the ring on his finger and smiled. It wasn’t how he’d pictured it, no. But right now, he couldn’t feel anything but wonderful. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If anyone is interested, I've picked out Thomas and Richard's engagement/wedding bands. (I couldn't help myself!) Here are the <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WwMfzed_Z6NRoo_Y3Aho2ztaF--NKSQPOZs4XvOltU/edit?usp=sharing">rings</a> if anyone wants a look :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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